


I am yours

by lothya



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Lime, M/M, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29449686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lothya/pseuds/lothya
Summary: When the Revolution happened, Hank was washed ashore by the mighty tide.He couldn't find his place ever since.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor & Sumo, Hank Anderson/Connor
Kudos: 17





	I am yours

**Author's Note:**

> A belated attempt at a quick Valentine's Day flick.  
> Please enjoy this sweet ball of feels with occasional porn, and happy Valentine's Day (or just ordinary day) to you! ^_^
> 
> (Warning: minor swearing, I guess?)

They met under the bridge, next to the now closed "Chicken Feed" booth, and for once it was bright sunlight. Hank wrapped his hands around android's narrow frame, and for the next five minutes or so he was the happiest person in the world.

\- Wanna go check on Sumo?

\- Yes, I would very much want that, - Connor smiled, and there was that sweet, mischievous deviant spark in his eyes, which took his perfectly engineered smile to the new level. Hank's heart skipped a beat; he was used to watching, guessing, thinking up wishfully the signs of a living being budding through the machine shell, but seeing Connor flourish into a person was… different. 

If only he had time to get to know this person better.

...Sumo was very pleased by the visit and ecstatic at the prospect of belly rubs. This kept Connor conveniently occupied, giving Hank enough time to rush through the kitchen, grabbing empty bottles and takeout leftovers. He didn’t want Connor to notice he was drinking again; for once, he wanted to revel in that same elation that marked their all too short partnership before.

He imagined it'd make him better of a person. Turned out, in the end he was too much of a selfish shit for that.

Hank grabbed the last empty bottle, and stuffed the bag under the sink.

\- Still sticking to the uniform, huh?

Connor shrugged, and Hank noticed how some of his movements were still unbalanced, artificial. He liked it; in some way, it brought back the Connor he knew well. Or, rather, hoped he knew.

\- It reminds me of who I am; I see no reason to change that.

Hank nodded slowly. He thought of his own uniform, a sad messy tangle of black under his bed that didn't match who he was anymore. 

God, that punch cost him dearly. And even though for Connor he'd do it again and again, the thought still brought the bitterness back every time. Ah, good old days…

\- Hank? Is everything alright? - Connor’s voice brought him back from the daze. Hank rubbed his eyes; stretched his neck with a loud crack.

\- Yeah, - he nodded. - I think it suits you.

\- I've been told so, - Connor replied with a content smirk. Hank didn't ask anything; God, he wanted to, but he didn't. Instead he grabbed a clean glass from the top shelf and poured some whiskey from a half-empty bottle, stashed conveniently behind the paper roll.

\- Sorry I didn't get anything for you, - he raised the glass. - Cheers to the Revolution.

Connor nodded with a smile, but a soft disquiet spark in his glance didn't escape Hank. He took a sip and put the glass down.

\- So how's it going? Making friends yet?

\- It's not an easy process, - Connor finally got up, leaving Sumo in a dreamy state on his rug.

\- You don’t say, - Hank chuckled.

\- No, I mean the Revolution, - Connor either didn't read the joke, or didn't want to play along. So… typical of him, wasn't it. - We're flying to Washington tomorrow, Markus, North and me, to participate in an extended session…

Hank had no idea who Markus or North were (well, Markus ringed familiar; it probably was that white-faced robo-dude, or someone from that gang). He feigned as much understanding as he could, and landed heavily on the couch, not forgetting to carry his glass with him. 

It was probably one of them who complimented on Connor’s uniform. Or not. Whatever.

\- Hank, may I ask you for a favor? - Connor took the seat next to him, a bit too close, a bit too intrusive, just like he always did. They'd legit fucked up with his sense of private space, Hank thought bemusedly.

\- What's it, buddy? - he took another sip, enjoying the drink as much as trying to hide the lingering smell of hangover in his breath. 

\- Could you let me crash on your couch tonight? Just for once, till I sort it out.

\- Sure thing! - Hank nodded, taking another sip. He'd gladly pour the whole glass down and then add the rest of the bottle to it, but the semblance of dignity had to be maintained. - At least you've asked this time, - he added with a smirk, and it got to him belatedly how rude it must have sounded.

Connor leaned away a bit, just a bit, making their distance perfectly right.

\- Thank you very much. I won't be a bother.

\- Come on. That was supposed to be a joke! - suddenly, one glass was nowhere near enough. - Do you mind the telly?

Connor shook his head silently. Hank turned the TV on and started switching through the channels. He didn’t want drama, he didn't want sports, definitely not news. He didn't want shit, so he got up, and poured himself another glass. Connor was quiet as a statue, spaced out with his back upright and shoulders rigid. For some reason, Hank was almost upset he couldn't see his LED from this point; as if it would let him know what Connor was thinking.

He took a large gulp from the glass, and put it back on the counter with a loud knock. Connor didn't flinch; he was somewhere deep inside his mind, hidden from the cruel world like a precious oyster in its shell. 

(Hank couldn't help but wonder if the deviants dreamed. He should have asked that long, long ago.)

With a soft click he turned the TV off (again, prompting no reaction), and put the remote down. He was intending to leave the room, but a silly idea made him linger a little bit longer. He raised his hand, and waved before Connor's face. 

Connor’s eyes didn't move. He indeed was in standby mode.

\- Love you, buddy, - Hank whispered. He grabbed the glass from the counter, and wandered into the darkness of the corridor. 

\- I love you too, - the quiet familiar voice reached him as his hand secured the handle of the bedroom door.

Hank stumbled and bumped into the door, almost spilling his drink.

\- You what the fuck, - he asked dully as Connor jumped up from the couch and advanced on him with his LED blinking red.

\- I'm sorry, - the android whispered, leaning into Hank's personal space just like he used to, close, intoxicating and irresistible. - About your badge…

\- Shut up, - Hank muttered, fighting the urge to grab Connor by his tie. After all the nights he wished it to feel right, it still felt wrong. - Shut up.

\- You were the first person I'd get... physical with, - Connor explained. His face suggested he'd blush, but he didn't have the function installed, and the voice synthesiser did a much better job conveying the emotion alone.

He was adorable. Hank couldn't help but chuckle.

\- So… you and me, unconscious in an alcohol delirium, that's you thing, huh?

\- No! That's not what I mean! - again, Connor pulled away just enough to break the tension building between them; Hank understood belatedly that android's social distance calculating software might, in fact, be tuned perfectly.

\- So. What do you mean? - he asked casually, taking a large sip from his glass, doing his best to look cool and unconcerned.

\- I… would like to know your stance on physical contact, - Connor answered without closing the distance, the stutter in his voice processor giving away the effort he put into these words.

\- Jeez, kid, you've really got that stick up your ass, - Hank made another sip from the glass, and grabbed Connor's neck, rubbing it gently with his fingers. Android's cool, soft synthetic skin felt majestic under his palm; with a flush of shame he felt his jeans tighten.

He never understood how girls see through the first (second, third) date without the creeping feeling of awkwardness.

Connor closed his eyes, pleased like a cat, and Hank thought about kissing his long, curly eyelashes. He didn’t see through it, though; he wanted Connor to state his intentions clearly before moving in on him.

\- I… would like to kiss you, if you allow me, - the android whispered.

\- Permission granted. Roger that, - Hank grinned. It felt almost like a game of power; he could barely keep his pants on, but right now he was in control. 

Connor leaned forward, and their lips touched. Hank couldn't keep himself restrained anymore; he forced his tongue into android's mouth, and noted with satisfaction a minor freeze in Connor's posture, as he processed a new sensation.

Kissing Connor felt weird, with that lingering taste of bleach and burned plastic, but it was Connor, his Connor, finally in his hands, opened up for him like a delicate blue orchid, tender and vulnerable.

He lowered his head to nib on Connor’s neck, breathing heavily.

\- You've been drinking again, - the voice didn't sound accusational, but rather… defeated? Hank couldn't, didn't want to discuss that now that he was so tipsy with the taste of his dreams coming true; he spilled the rest of the glass on the rug, and threw the glass away.

\- Keep your pretty mouth busy, - he groaned, letting Connor land a kiss on his ear. Connor nodded.

\- I would like to, um… sample more of you, - he whispered, getting on his knees.

\- Wait, - Hank grabbed him by the shoulder, right over the bright blue strip on his jacket. - It's not fair that you're so dressed up.

Connor nodded again. Still on his knees, he took the jacket off, then undid his tie with the same charming grace he'd fix it so many times when they were on a case together. Hank almost forgot to unbutton his own shirt, bewitched by the sight.

Then both shirts were off; Hank feasted his eyes on Connor’s soft milky freckled shoulders, mildly ashamed of his own beer belly. But it wasn't for long; Hank's worn tshirt was lifted, and Connor's gentle fingers caressed his chest, and Connor's lips landed kisses on his belly - soft and tender like a flock of butterflies, sending his head into a spin way better than whiskey.

Hank's belt gave up, and his way-too-tight-now jeans were lowered, finally letting him out of the blue fabric prison. For a second Connor hesitated; his LED blinked soft yellow, indicating that he was consulting the network. Hank chuckled.

\- I hope you weren't licking any evidence recently.

Connor's LED did a red spin.

\- I was designed with a robust self-desinfecting routine in mind, - he stated almost proudly.

\- Whatever. Just don't overdo it with bleach, o-h… - Hank didn't finish the sentence, because Connor’s tongue was now probing his tip, wrapping around it, massaging it in a way almost humanly impossible. - Damn kid, you're good...

He felt almost sorry he didn't bother to jerk off a night before, because as soon as he was in Connor's mouth it was a quick and steady ride to the white blinding bliss. Hank came hard, shaking with his whole body as the gentle fingers helped him keep his balance up against the wall; when he opened his eyes, Connor was still on his knees next to him, solemn and eerily quiet with his eyes closed and LED blinking yellow.

\- Con? - Hank caressed the android's cheek as he pulled the pants up, securing zipper up with a free hand. - Is everything alright? Go wash your mouth.

Connor opened his eyes and nodded; quickly he escaped to the bathroom, and soon the sound of water running could be heard.

Hank slid down the wall and landed heavily on the carpet. So, he'd done it, of all the impossible things to think of late at night; his dick was itching slighly because of the disinfectant, reminding him it wasn't just a dream. Hank's idle hand reached for the thick whiskey glass, discarded at the heat of the moment, so fragile yet so heavy and durable. Boy, he'd really fancy a drink right now.

The bathroom door opened and closed, and he felt the gentle pressure of Connor's body landing next to him on the floor. Hank stretched his hand, and grabbed android's bare shoulders, caressing soft, cool skin.

\- What can I do for you, Con? - he turned his head, and pressed a kiss into Connor's neck.

\- Just… stay safe, - Connor whispered quietly.

\- No, I mean… - Hank trailed off. Little fucker was scanning him all the time, and God knows what he read; it was a long time since Hank last visited a doctor. He bit his lip. - Look, I honestly don't know if you liked it. But if it upsets you...

Connor turned his head, and Hank could see tears welling in his soft brown eyes.

\- I'm allright, - he spoke quietly with a meek smile on his face. - I wanted this, and I'm glad you were cooperative. 

\- Cooperative my ass, - Hank grumbled, trying not to laugh at the stiff phrasing. Teaching Connor the ways of pillowtalk was a unique task of its own, and he hoped to have a chance to practice it more in foreseeable future.

\- Regarding that... - Connor’s LED blinked soft yellow again; this was a train of thought Hank was eager to disrupt sooner than later.

\- Forget it, - he chuckled. - Not up my alley.

\- Sorry, - Connor nodded with a smile. - We could make a chart…

Hank grabbed him in a crude bearlike hug, and squeezed real hard, placing his mouth on the soft spot of android's neck right under the ear.

\- Only if it turns you on, you dirty digital… number-lover, - he bit his tongue at the right moment yo avoid the word "machine"; somehow he knew Connor wouldn't fancy it even as a joke.

It was Connor's time to laugh, and he did so - sincerely, loudly and just a little bit mechanically, exactly the way Hank expected him to.

\- No! - he protested. - I'm yours now, I have to…

\- And I'm yours regardless, - Hank whispered, kissing the sweet freckled milky neck.

If he could be patient today - he would be patient from now on. This was the promise he intended to keep.


End file.
